


A Pitiful State To Be In

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drabble, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire confesses.</p><p>Enjolras pities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pitiful State To Be In

He should have known.

 

They stood outside the gates, an hour after school had finished and ten minutes after their detention had ended. Grantaire had asked Courfeyrac to make sure their friends went on ahead, and the brunet had nodded understandingly, clasping his skinny shoulder with a dark-skinned hand and squeezing before leaving.

 

Now, Grantaire could only wish for one of their friends, a teacher,  _anyone_ , to rescue them from this unsalvageable mess.

 

"Uh... Wow, Grantaire. I didn't know..."

 

"It's okay. I told the others not to tell you when they guessed."

 

Enjolras looked down at him - both physically and metaphorically, what a _joke_ his life was! - and raised his eyebrows. "They knew before me?"

 

Nodding, Grantaire replied, "I was pretty obvious about it."

 

"Oh..."

 

There was a pregnant pause.

 

"So, do you want to go on a date?"

 

Grantaire looked up, his bright eyes narrowing and large fists clenching. "No."

 

"I-"

 

"You don't want to."

 

Enjolras had no chance to reply as Grantaire continued.

 

"You don't want to date me, but you're asking me anyway," the boy smirked. "Mostly because you don't want to disappoint anyone, because you think that Courfeyrac will be angry or disappointed with you, so you're going on the  _Poor Pathetic Lovesick Grantaire Pity Party_ route. I'm not an emotionally inept moron."

 

The last two words - " _Like you,_ " - hung in the air like a fog.

 

"I don't pity you," said Enjolras, too quickly for either to fool themselves into believing that the words were true.

 

Grantaire laughed loudly and humourlessly, the sound grating and sharp. "But,  _my dear_ , you do."


End file.
